


just the way you are

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9187007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: Robbie wakes up tied to a chair. And that's not even the worst of it.





	

Ever since the night of the accident, Robbie’s been tough to knock down and even tougher to knock out. He’s been shot, beaten, run over, run through and not once has any of it put him down for the count. So it’s kind of a new experience, coming to like he does now.

“What?” he mutters through the pounding in his head.

“The good news,” comes a strained voice from out of the black, “is that we now know my new dendrotoxin formula can put even you down.” It’s Simmons, the doctor who’s been hanging around Daisy almost 24/7 since breaking up with her boyfriend. And when she’s not with Daisy, Daisy’s telling _him_ about how bad the break up was. Like he cares.

He opens his eyes, realizes it’s not nearly so dark in here as he thought. But his head is still pounding. “And the bad news?” As the room around him comes slowly into focus, he can pretty well guess. He’s tied to a chair and Simmons is about ten feet away, looking even worse. There’re cuffs on her wrists and a chain tying that to the ceiling and, because that wasn’t sick enough, her shirt’s gone missing, giving Robbie a great view of the scars covering her midsection. He watches her lip disappear behind her teeth as her bare toes dance on the concrete, trying to find an angle to take the weight off her wrists.

The fire inside him surges but … nothing happens. The devil’s there, but it’s like it’s locked behind a thick sheet of ice. Fucking hell.

“The bad news,” a voice Robbie doesn’t know at all says, “is that Dr. Simmons is going to die.”

A short, fat man walks past Robbie and up to Simmons. He doesn’t look like a psycho - more like the divorced father of two who does CPA work illegally out of his apartment down Robbie’s block - at least not until he comes around the other side of her and Robbie catches a glimpse of his eyes. Oh yeah, total freak.

Robbie sits a little straighter in the chair. “Yeah? Says who?”

Having this whackjob looking at him might’ve unnerved Robbie a few years ago, but he’s been carrying the devil on his back for a while now, it takes more than some crazy eyes to unnerve him.

“Leave him alone,” Simmons says.

Robbie’s got his mouth half-open to say if anybody deserves a little punishment it’s the guy who’s trussed her up like a Christmas ham, but then he actually looks at her and sees she’s looking at the other guy. For real? She’s afraid _he’s_ gonna hurt _him_? It’s almost funny.

Psycho here gives a little twitch in her direction at the order. “Whoever you are,” he says to Robbie, “I really am sorry you had to be involved in this. But if you sit tight, keep your mouth shut, and let me get on with the torture in peace, I’ll let you go once she’s dead.”

The arms of the chair start to smoke under Robbie’s palms. He can feel the devil demanding he put a fist through this guy’s chest. He tries to open up, let it out, but the smoke’s all he’s got. He needs more time.

“Why?” he asks, hoping to keep Psycho busy for a while. What he gets is ignored while the guy wanders off behind him. He can’t turn his head far enough to see what he’s doing, but Simmons is getting paler so it can’t be good. “Why d’you wanna kill her so bad?”

There’s no answer, but Psycho comes back with something long and metal and dangerous looking. He drags the handle of the thing along Simmons’ scars and, when the end finally gets near her flesh, squeezes the trigger.

Oh great, it’s a freakin’ cattle prod.

Simmons’ yelp is more shock than pain. Robbie pulls at the ropes and heaves at the devil trapped in his chest, but even with it clawing to be free and him fighting hard as he can, they don’t get anywhere.

“Why!” he demands. His yell echoes off walls he can’t see in the shadows. This place is bigger than he thought; good, he’ll have plenty of room to fry this _pendejo_  without risking Simmons.

“You didn’t tell your friends about me?” Psycho asks, looking kind of hurt.

“We’re not friends,” Simmons says, voice as thin and taut as the rest of her. Robbie dares a look at her hands. One of her wrists is bleeding and her fingers look swollen and discolored. His nails dig into the arms of his chair. “He’s no one. Just let him g-”

“You didn’t tell them how you _framed me_ ,” Psycho says, back to circling, “for _your crimes_ and left me to be _tortured in your place_.”

Every accusation has Simmons flinching. That or it’s just the way the cattle prod swings a little closer with every one.

Robbie’s anger doesn’t cool, but it does take a backseat to careful consideration. The Rider’s all about vengeance, all about doling out punishment to those who deserve it. He was asking the wrong question before; he should’ve been asking who. _Who_ deserves punishment here? He’s had a feeling about Simmons ever since he first met her.

Daisy’s clean. She’s done some shit, but she’s not bad, she’s not evil. Robbie can’t say the same for all her friends though. That Mace guy for one, he’s definitely on some devil’s list, even if it isn’t the Rider’s. But Simmons … he’s never been able to get a read on her.

“Kenneth,” Simmons starts.

No, he thinks, that’s not right. He’s never _wanted_ to read her. She’s got that giddy smile and Daisy loves her the same as Robbie loves Gabe and he just didn’t want to look at her long enough to know for sure either way. But right here, right now, he’s got no choice. If he’s gonna let the devil out to play, he’s gotta know who he’s going after first.

“ _Do you have any idea the things they did to me?_ ” Kenneth (Robbie’s thinking Psycho’s still a better name) whispers right in her face. He leans back, expression hard. “You will.” He lifts the cattle prod.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jemma doesn’t see what happens. She sees the fire roar to life as she’s shutting her eyes against the oncoming pain and knows, when no pain follows, that she’s been saved. She also knows the cost. Because she might not see what happens, but she has other senses. She can smell things she’d rather not put into words (though she doubts she’ll be eating meat again for a year, if ever) and hear Kenneth’s scream over the squelching, popping, hissing of boiled flesh. The scream itself dies quickly, while the rest…

Heat washes over her face and she keeps her eyes shut, knowing Mr. Reyes’ alter ego is standing before her. After a moment, warm hands find her wrists. The chain holding her up sizzles and snaps and she’s cradled carefully against a solid chest.

“Thank you,” she sighs, sinking to the ground. She’s dimly aware of the fire burning dangerously close to her hair, but she can’t care about that when blood is flowing (painfully) into her arms again. She might make some embarrassing noise but is distracted from her own agony by the sound of a zipper.

She forces her eyes open just as his jacket settles over her shoulders. For a moment she’s dumbfounded - not by the kind gesture, but by the sight of that flaming skull hovering over a very flesh and blood body. Somehow, without the leather covering every inch of him, it’s almost comical.

He fusses until she slides her hands through the arms and he can zip the jacket up. Or begin to, at any rate; his hand pauses briefly over her stomach, flattening in a clear question.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she says.

Embers in place of eyes lift, pinning her in place and demanding an answer.

She pulls the zipper up the rest of the way herself. She could be wrong, but she thinks the skull might smile.

“I’m sorry you got roped into this,” she says, using a hand on his shoulder to leverage herself rather shakily to her feet.

“Not your fault,” Mr. Reyes says - and he is Mr. Reyes again, watching her in that inscrutable way of his and holding her waist respectfully to keep her from falling.

She doesn’t dare look towards the body just outside her focus, but she can feel it there, accusing. “The things he said … he was right.” She’s always wondered, in the back of her mind, what became of Kenneth after her deception was exposed, whether HYDRA, having found the real traitor, might have been lenient. Now she knows.

The pressure on her waist increases. “Doesn’t mean what he did was. Guy deserved what he got.”

She can’t look towards the body, she just _can’t_ , so she turns away instead. “Yeah…”

“Hey.” He presses gently until she lifts her head. “He did. And, just so you know, you don’t.”

She frowns, confused.

He smiles - she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him smile before, it’s very nice - and maneuvers her into his side so he can support her as they walk for the door at the far end of the warehouse. “That drug of yours? It knocks the Rider out too; I had a hell of a time getting him to show his face.”

She giggles at the pun. The feeling in her limbs is coming back slowly but she thinks she might be able to walk on her own now and makes some effort to give him his space. His other arm comes up across his chest to steady her, like he thinks she’s falling. Well, if he’s so determined, she won’t fight him. She settles into his side again as he continues.

“If he’d decided you both deserved it or even _just_ you? I wouldn’t’ve been able to stop him. But he only went after that psycho, even helped you down, warmed you up…” He trails off, voice going oddly distant.

“That wasn’t you?” she asks. She’s still not certain she believes all this about his being possessed by the Devil, but it might be a second consciousness, similar to Hive but able to survive in concert with a living host. Or perhaps it’s as simple as a split personality: the trauma of the crash combined with the sudden development of his powers created a breach in his psyche.

She sighs, she really wishes Dr. Garner were still around.

“Not this time, no. Usually I’m in control, but with those drugs…”

“Thank you too then. For this-” she gestures to his arm around her- “and for bringing him out.”

He slows to a halt as he chuckles. She feels the sound down to her still-aching toes. “Sorry,” he says, “’t’s just not something I hear a whole lot.”

“Well you should.” Her toes aren’t happy about it after the last couple hours, but she pushes herself up on them to plant a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. Now let's get out of here before anyone else shows up; Kenneth couldn’t have done all this alone.”

He must agree, as he supports her the rest of the way to the door, but he doesn’t say another word until they’re outside on the street.

 


End file.
